Pen in hand the young man touched the first page with a big bright blue marker. Its heavy thick tip brushing into the page thick bright and bold lines across the singular 6×6 inch page. Its ink marking and burying the colour into the weighted paper. The pressure upon the page sinking, and seeping through soiling the reverse page making it impossible to write on that other side.
The young man sat calmly on the beach his eyes gazing out over each of the waves before him as they slowly danced up the seaside then pausing for a single moment to have its tail chasing itself back into the ocean with an impeccable speed.
The leather bound journal draped over his right thigh as he reminisced with himself about a scene in a movie called Titanic where the character Jack Dawson is sitting on the precipice of time wondering about his future and penciling into his own sketch book; his ideas of a better tomorrow.
He is bound only by time and the wanderlust which resides in his heart.
The first entry into his new journal is not of his own penmanship but of someone near and dear to him. Their handwriting scorns the second page in a listing of quotes about travel and life to come when someone sells all of their possessions to pursue a dream: Discovering Yesteryear; Stories of a Young Man’s Travels.
THE OCEANS AWAIT YER TRAVEL
THE PASSAGES THAT SCREAM YOUR NAME,
VEHICLES THAT LEAVE YOU BREATHLESS ON ROCKY GROUNDS,
SPLASHING UPON YOUR FACE,
WET SPARKLES THAT CAUSE YOU TO SMILE,
THE OCEANS AWAIT YER TRAVEL.
AC. 2 Feb 2002